Obsessions
by Dakota Reynolds
Summary: Harry and Draco meet 10 years since they first saw each other. Story of how their relationship began. HPDM


Neither could admit what was there; but each felt a sort of morbid fascination with the other. One kept a twig from a smashed broomstick and a stolen book from as far back as first year. The other used his Marauder's Map to watch…every second of every day. He held on to a drawing passed in class…one of himself…albeit, in the picture he was getting grotesquely hurt playing quidditch.

The most important part, though, was who the drawing was from…just like the other liked to look over a practically ancient textbook and analyze the notes written there…for signs of weakness of course! Once, a few years after he had seized said book, he came across a doodles "Draco Malfoy" in the margin, hastily crossed out, it appeared. He wondered what that meant as he absentmindedly twiddled the twig over and over in his hands…something, he told himself, that might come in handy for particularly dark hexes or potions.

Harry was an Auror-in-training, like he always dreamed. However, he hadn't left everything of Hogwarts behind. In his bedside table, he still had that note, tucked away in the back being the photo album he had of his parents.

It was no wonder that he jumped a the change to spy on those witches and wizards suspected to have some hand in a series of muggle attacks, similar to the ones seven years ago, at the Quidditch World Cup. Also, it was no surprise that the first wizard on the list was one Draco Lucius Malfoy.

Harry donned his invisibility cloak and apparated to just outside Malfoy Manor. With the quick limberness of a seeker and the stealth of an Auror, he crept up to a window softly lit by the glow of a fire.

There sat Draco in the library, staring handsomely…scratch that, moodily, into the fire. A thick stout glass half full of a dark amber liquid tipped precariously in his hand. The deep emerald armchair situated in front of the glowing embers made Malfoy's pale pointed face stand out violently in the otherwise shadowed room.

Suddenly Draco rose and drew back his arm, flinging the glass into the fire, causing an explosion of flames and sparks to flare up, throwing more light on the rest of the room, as well as his lean figure.

As Draco stood still, presumably brooding, Harry leaned forward, peering further into the room. Is breath on the glass of the window made small, circular, foggy clouds that lasted a few seconds before fading, only to appear again with his next breath.

Draco, who had, unfortunately, learned something from the very teacher who had transfigured him into a member of the rodent family, saw this slight opaque movement cloud fade in and out from the corner of his eye. Constant Viligence! His head snapped To the window, and Harry realized his crucial mistake and pulled back quickly…but not quickly enough to avoid Draco's spell, summoning Harry though the glass, shattering dramatically over the rich, plush carpet as Harry landed at Draco's feet on the rug in front of the fire.

The invisibility cloak slipped off his shoulder, revealing Harry's torso. Quickly, he tried to amen this, to defend himself, or something, but Draco's disarming spell sent the ant flying out of Harry's hand, and took the cloak along with it.

Harry scrambled to stand up, realizing that he violated rule one of Beginner Auror Spying…Do. Not. Be. Seen. Or. Otherwise. Detected.

Harry, standing in front of the fire, waited, trying to anticipate Draco's next move.

"Potter! What, pray tell, is your business in my home?"

"Well," remarked Harry irritably, "I was _outside_ your home…until you spelled me through the window."

Draco glared fiercely.

"Well, it's true," Harry added, unnecessarily.

"Silencio!" Draco roared.

Nimbly, Harry dodged the spell and grabbed a picture in a heavy silver frame off the mantle to shield himself with.

\"Don't!" Draco snapped.

Looking at the picture, Harry realized it was on of Draco and his parents, looking like it had been taken five or six years ago. Before his father was imprisoned in Azkaban.

Harry regarded this curiously, but Draco interrupted his thoughts.

"Put it back!" he demanded, two splotches of color staining the apples of his cheeks.

"Fine," Harry responded, taking his time to do so.

"Hurry up!" Draco was as impatient as ever.

"Relax!" Harry snapped. "I'm not going to hurt it," he finished contemptuously.

"Look, Potter, you wouldn't understand what it's like to have your—"

"To have my parents gone?" Harry broke in. "But wouldn't I?"

Angered, Draco flicked his want and shot Harry back against the wall opposite the fireplace. He hit the set of double doors, and they flung open to reveal a long, rich table in a darkly decorated dining room. Harry landed on the end of the table and slid fifteen feet toward the center before coming to a halt.

Harry scrambled off the table to grab his wand that lay twisted in his cloak just inside the library doors. Draco jumped up on the polished dark cherry tabletop, shouting curses left and right, and thoroughly looking like a force to be reckoned with. Harry managed to dodge them, finding his wand by fumbling with the folds of his cloak.

"Expelliarmus!" shouted Draco for the second time that night. He snatched Harry's want out of the air, leaving Harry defenseless.

Beyond angry, Harry stalked over the threshold and cleanly hopped up onto the table, facing Draco, saying,

"Either give me my wand or toss yours away. This should be a fair fight, Draco, even you would agree to that. What could be the fun in attacking unarmed enemies? Unless you…normally…prey on such victims. Like muggles, perhaps?"

Eyes narrowed dangerously, Draco responded.

"Fine, Potter," he spat. "I've always wanted to have a go at you…and now's my chance!"

Draco flung both wands away, and they clattered as they fell somewhere off to the side of the dining room.

Draco stalked towards Harry, slowly, gracefully, catlike. But Harry was ready. He jumped back and avoided Draco's punch, as well aimed as it was. Harry, in turn, tried a kick meant to knock Draco down, but Draco easily dodged it and responded with his own pointy elbow.

Harry grabbed hold of Draco's forearm and pulled him closer. Each struggled against the other, but they were so well-matched, no progress was made.

They edged toward the center of the long, narrow table, reminiscent of the dueling platform they had found themselves on in their second year.

In a final lunge, Draco knocked both Harry and the ornate crystal centerpiece onto the heavily carpeted floor with such a force that the glass shattered upon contact with the elf-woven tapestry under and around the table.

Disregarding the potential for cuts due to the tiny, diamond like shards now littering the floor, Draco pounced, landing on Harry and aptly knocking the wind out of him. He drew back his fist to deliver a particularly potent punch, but Harry reached up and, grabbing Draco's shoulders, reversed their positions, slamming Draco's upper body back into the floor amongst plentiful shards of glass.

"Potter, this is trespassing, and I shall alert the Ministry—"

"What, just like you always ran off and tattled when we were in school? No, Draco, I think let's settle this once and for all."

With that, Harry leaned down close to Draco's face, and, carefully extending the very tip of his tongue, he ran it across a red scratch on Draco's right cheek, his aristocratic features marred by the cuts left by the glass surrounding the two.

That final touch, bridging the gap between hatred and well…lust, I suppose, Draco's hips bucked. This strangely intimate gesture performed by his most sworn childhood enemy? Too hot for words.

Draco, sliding his knees up so that his feet were flat on the ground, and his thighs brushing Harry's ass, abruptly propelled them over so that Draco was on top. His hips ground into Harry's, and with his strong hands he grasped Harry's wrists and pressed them forcefully into the ground above his head.

"Love, you knew I was going to make the first move this time," Draco chided.

"Yes, but you **always** take so long, and I don't want to go through anymore fist fighting tonight," Harry whined.

"Fine, but I'm in charge," smirked Draco. There was nothing he enjoyed more than having control over his lover of a little over a year now.

They were 22, and both enjoyed re-acting that night they first realized what their obsessions with each other were. That night exactly ten years from the day they first met. But every time they re-acted that night, they used slightly different variations of the ending, of course. ; )

Alternate Ending: The first Night: The day after Harry's 21st birthday.

Draco, sliding his knees up so that his feet were flat on the ground, and his thighs brushing Harry's ass, abruptly propelled them over so that Draco was on top. His hips ground into Harry's, and with his strong hands he grasped Harry's wrists and pressed them forcefully into the ground above his head.

Looking caught between surmounting anger and exponentially increasing tension, Draco paused for a millisecond that lasted a fortnight, before carefully, slowly, bringing his lips down very close to Harry's face…so close Harry could smell Draco's husky scent and feel his warm breath across his cheeks.

"What," Draco whispered throatily, deeply, sexily, "was that."

But it wasn't a question. The question was which of them moved into the kiss first…but it really doesn't matter now.

Throats were nuzzled, necks were nipped, earlobes were toyed with, and everything, everything, was delicious, and everything, everything, felt as if the past ten years of their lives, for it was ten years exactly, since the day they had first met, led up to this point.


End file.
